


Clap

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim waits for Spock’s fanclub to release him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1cobaltDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1cobaltDream/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for tomorrowsdate’s “Jim and Spock are already together and they're on a new planet that finds Vulcans far too interesting for Jim's likes. Bones thinks it's funny and Jim is trying to keep his cool, especially when they're trying to gift Spock with endless amounts of tribbles” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).

The shuttle floor doesn’t make for very good seating, but then, they’re not supposed to be sitting here at all. They’re supposed to be in their respective pilot seats, setting a course back for the Enterprise, instead of slumping half outside the shuttle with their legs dangling over the edge. There’s enough room for Jim and Bones to sit side-by-side comfortably, although Jim would still rather be inside with the door shut, taking off.

They need Spock for that though, and he’s still busy trying to detangle himself from the planet’s natives. There’s a good two dozen of them knotted around Spock, their hair exclusively black despite their varying skin tones, their clothes all the same triangular shapes, their tales all running ramrod-straight towards the ground. Other than those tails, they’re indistinguishable from humans, but apparently, Vulcans are the only extraterrestrials they’re into. 

After drawing an end to their diplomatic first-contact visit, the away team said their goodbyes, and Jim and Bones walked calmly back for their shuttle.

While Spock stayed to accept various hand gestures, praise, gifts, and general fawning. Other than this one dark spot, the mission’s been a great success. Objectively speaking. Emotionally, it’s left a pit in Jim’s stomach and he’s getting tired of staring at his commander’s back while _other_ people touch and engage him. Spock’s posture is rigid, his entire being tense and obviously not inviting such attention, but that doesn’t make it bother Jim any less. Finally, he growls under his breath to Bones, though the group is about ten meters away and won’t hear, “This is getting ridiculous. Do you think Sulu will even be there by the time we get back, or will he have given us up for dead?” Jim accompanies his blatant exaggeration with an eye roll, and he crosses his arms. 

Bones snorts. He’s naturally grumpier than Jim is over just about everything, so it seems strange to Jim that Bones is smirking when he looks over. “Oh, is that why you’re so prickly? Time? I just assumed you were jealous.”

Jim’s head whips aside. “I’m neither prickly nor jealous.”

Bones scoffs. “Kid, you’ve been bitter this entire mission, ever since we first came down and found the locals more interested in invading your Vulcan’s personal space than anything we might have to say.” Though he glares, Jim doesn’t counter the conspicuous ‘your Vulcan’ comment. He could choose to construe Bones’ words as Jim being jealous over Spock getting more attention, but there’s no point playing dumb.

As soon as Jim introduced his science officer, the natives were all over him. They received the packet of standard Federation information, which they requested shortly after receiving Jim’s proposal to meet. The second Jim finished Spock’s title, a whispered hush of ‘the Vulcan’ ran through the crowd, and it soon became obvious why. The residents of this world seem to find Vulcans the most fascinating creatures in the galaxy. They told Spock his ‘aesthetics’ were gorgeous, his attitudes enlightened, his strength admirable, and so many little details that Jim’s lost track; one woman even said the length of Spock’s eyebrows was worthy of worship. Every adult alien they met—all attractive in their own right—practically draped themselves all over Spock, relegating Jim and Bones to the background while Spock got the spotlight and enough propositions to start a sizeable harem. If harems were Spock’s style.

Fortunately for Jim, they’re not. But it’s still irritating to have people throwing themselves at his boyfriend, and he can’t help it if he’s at least a _little_ bitter as they watch the crooning drag on. In between gushed words and almost-clapping hands—they stop a centimeter away on Spock’s request—Spock’s arms are being steadily loaded with tribbles, apparently the most treasured of gifts on this world. Though Spock has no use for them, he seems to have failed to find a polite way to decline, and the more Jim watches, the more Spock’s arms become full to the brim. The alien interest doesn’t appear to be waning. 

A small honey tribble topples over Spock’s elbow, and before he can bend to pick it up, a tall man snatches it up and passes it back, taking the opportunity to steal Spock’s attention. Bones laughs, probably at the ever-graceful Spock dropping something, but Jim doesn’t see anything funny. 

Jim mutters dryly, “You’re awful cheerful, considering we just discovered an entire planet that disagrees with your views on hobgoblins.”

“Yeah.” Bones shrugs. “But then, Spock disagrees with them even more, and that makes it hilarious.” Indeed, each time Spock’s face turns to speakers on the edges of the crowd enough for Jim to see his expression, the careful neutrality has chipped away a little more. When Jim thinks about it, Spock’s probably had a harder time than Jim has; these raging fanclubs would make anyone uncomfortable, especially someone who’s based their life on objective reason. 

And that makes Jim feel like a jerk for only thinking of his own feelings. With a sigh, he pushes off the shuttle’s ledge, feet hitting the dirt. 

He strolls over the purple stones to his boyfriend, plucks another tribble off the ground, and starts to help take some of the load. Spock says, “Thank you, Captain,” with a tinge of relief in his voice. Spock’s eyes fix with his for a moment, seeming to say, ‘help me.’

“Honoured friends,” Jim announces loudly to the crowd, in the customary greeting of their planet, the universal translator doing quick work. “I regret to inform you that we really _must_ leave now, and that includes Commander Spock.” A rippling wave of disappointment tears through the aliens. 

But then Spock lifts his fingers in the Vulcan salute and recites, “Live long and prosper.” The aliens break into a loud, high-pitched group wailing; their odd equivalent of cheering.

Jim quickly grabs Spock’s arm and steers him around, as best he can with tribbles pouring out of his grip. They’ll have to find somewhere safe to beam them all before they hit the Enterprise. Behind Jim and Spock, the aliens are calling things like, “Come back soon!” and “We’ll miss you, Vulcan!”

Under Jim’s breath so no one else will hear, Jim mutters, “I liked your ears first.”

Spock looks at him with a lifted eyebrow and faintly green cheeks, but now they’re back at the shuttle, and Jim’s not about to elaborate on his petulance with Bones around. The three of them rush inside and get the door shut before the locals can change their mind about letting their newest idol go, and then they’re off to their ship, Jim resisting the childish urge to possessively hold Spock’s hand under the dashboard.


End file.
